


Prison of Fear

by Kuragari



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, BAMF Stiles, Comatose Derek, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Derek, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Season/Series 02 AU, Season 3 AU, True Alpha Scott McCall, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-05-24 01:49:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6137146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuragari/pseuds/Kuragari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was blood everywhere. The floor, the walls, it was soaking into his shoes and the knees of his jeans. So much blood, Derek's blood.<br/>“Oh no, oh god, oh no...”<br/>He wasn't dead, he couldn't be dead. He was too fucking stubborn to be dead! Stiles put his hands on either side of the Alpha's face, his hands trembling as he shook the other man.</p><p>-----<br/>Or Derek wasn't ok after a night locked in with two feral werewolves and Stiles is the only one who can save him. Horribly cheesy sounding summary but I hope you'll give it a chance anyway. Inspired by a fanvid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What's the plan?

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by Paquim's fanvid on youtube:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QOZlD3eRvQM  
> Hope this was worth the wait!

Stiles ran into the boiler room, trying to believe they weren't about to find another dead body. Fuck the Alpha pack! They just couldn't leave well enough alone? It was bad enough that the Beacon Hills pack had just taken down a murdering psycho and his pet Kanima, now they had to deal with this shit!

He'd gotten an urgent text from Scott while he'd still been at the hospital, telling him what had happened. Derek was trapped, alone, with two insane werewolves until sunrise. Stiles had run all the way to his jeep.

It had taken less then 10 minutes to drive to the school and way less to bolt from the jeep to the building. He'd found Scott next to the boiler room door. His best friend filled him in on their plan, that had been working damn it, up until they found out a teacher was in the basement and now Derek had to hold off two werewolves on his own.

Oh, of fucking course there would be someone down there! It's not like they could have things go right the one time they had actually formulated a good plan!

They had spent long, agonizing minutes in tense silence, waiting, willing the sun to rise. There were barely any sounds on the other side of the door. That couldn't be a good sign.

Please, Stiles found himself thinking furiously at the unyielding metal. Please, don't be dead.

Now, with the dawn at their backs, he, Scott, and a frantic Isaac ran into the basement... and headlong into a nightmare.

There was blood. A lot of blood. Stiles felt like they'd walked onto the scene of a horror movie. Everything was red.

Cora and Boyd were passed out on the floor and Scott immediately ran over to check if they were still alive. Stiles, however, was focused on the third body, covered in so much blood it was barely recognizable.

“Derek!” he shouted, sliding to his knees beside the prone Alpha. His eyes were closed, his chest a mural of deep, jagged claw marks and he wasn't responding.

“Derek!”

There was blood everywhere. The floor, the walls, it was soaking into his shoes and the knees of his jeans. So much blood, Derek's blood.

“Oh no, oh god, oh no...”

He wasn't dead, he couldn't be dead. He was too fucking stubborn to be dead! Stiles put his hands on either side of the Alpha's face, his hands trembling as he shook the other man.

“Derek, come on!”

“Stiles!” Scott grabbed his shoulder, turning his friend just enough that he could look at his face. Isaac was supporting an unconscious Cora, going pale when he caught sight of Derek. “We need to get them to Deaton, Come on!”

Still shaking, Stiles nodded before climbing to his feet to help haul the werewolves upstairs to the cars, Allison's dad making his way down to deal with the civilian still in the basement. As Stiles climbed back into his jeep, he prayed to whatever god was clearly ignoring him that the Alpha bleeding all over his back seat would live.

\------

They were banished to the front almost as soon as they'd gotten the three wolves in to Deaton, which had been far from easy, thank you very much. Two of those werewolves were pure muscle but did they get to know what was going on? Oh, nooooo. They had to sit out front and wonder.

Well, 'they' really just meaning Stiles and Isaac. Scott was apparently 'needed.' So now Stiles sat in one of the really fucking uncomfortable chairs, chewing his nails and bouncing his leg a mile a minute. He was certain that Isaac was tempted to punch him in the face but he just couldn't help it.

After the forty minute mark, the mild-tempered veterinarian finally called them back. The first thing Stiles saw was Derek, laid down across the metal table and unconscious. Most of his injuries had closed up and healed over, but he was pale and out cold. The next thing he noticed was Scott, perched on the back counter with his head in his hands.

Oh yeah, these looked like good signs.

“He hasn't woken up?” Isaac asked in a small voice. Scott's head shot up at the other wolf's tone and he hopped off the counter to come stand by him. Stiles figured it was some 'pack comfort' thing.

He swallowed hard and looked at Deaton as the vet began to speak.

“No, I'm afraid he hasn't,” he started and Stiles wanted to shake the man for sounding so... flat about it. What was it with Deaton's 'I'm-so-stoic-and-calm-and-never-seem-affected-by-anything'-ness?

“Why not?” Stiles asked. “He was tore up pretty badly but shouldn't the being a werewolf handle that? I mean, what's the point in going all growly every full moon if you don't get the full advantage of the healing? Well, other than the speed, strength, hearing-”

“Ability to disembowel annoying teenagers,” finished a voice from behind him.

“SWEET JESUS!”

Stiles whipped around so fast he nearly fell to the floor, much to the smug amusement of one Peter Hale who had been creeping behind him like the creepy, zombie wolf he was.

“What are you doing here?” Scott demanded, moving slightly in front of Isaac and Stiles.

“That is my nephew laid out on the table,” Peter answered, tone conveying anything but sincerity. “Of course I rushed straight here.”

“Like you care,” Stiles spat, swallowing hard when cold blue eyes were trained on him.

“Believe it or not, I'm here to help.”

“Oh yeah sure. I believe that-”

“I called him here. I need him to lend his insight,” Deaton interrupted, holding up a hand as if to pacify the teens. Stiles moved closer to Derek's prone form, as if he stood a chance of keeping Peter away. Which, yeah, no shot whatsoever, but it made him feel better.

“Insight on what?” Isaac asked, refusing to look at Peter and instead directing his glare at Deaton. Scott placed a calming hand on the taller wolf's arm, draining a tiny amount of tension out of his shoulders.

“Derek was severely hurt,” the vet started. “As a response, he has gone into a kind of healing trance.”

“But... he looks healed,” Stiles said, looking over Derek's body. It was true, the Alpha had healed completely during his stay in Deaton's exam room. There was hardly any evidence of the harrowing events of only an hour or so before.

“Which leads me to believe that this trauma not only affected his body,” the man continued, looking at them each in turn. “But also his mind. He's fallen into a type of coma, trapped in his own mind and unable to wake up.”

Stiles looked over at Scott, meeting his friend's eyes and realizing why the teen had seemed so down when he came in.

“So... he's just... stuck like this?” he asked haltingly.

“Yes,” Peter said, earning icy glares from the teens at his almost cheerful tone.

“If we don't pull him out of it,” Deaton finished quickly, throwing a disapproving look Peter's way. “Someone will have to enter Derek's mind and lead him back.”

The vet fell silent, allowing them all a moment to understand the full gravity of the situation.

Stiles looked down at the slumbering Alpha, a cold weight settling in his stomach at the thought of him never waking. His eyes were moving behind his eyelids and even in sleep, his forehead was pinched in a frown that Stiles wanted to smooth with his fingertips.

He looked up to find Scott watching him with nervous concern and Peter giving him an all too knowing smirk. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, looking determinedly at Deaton.

“What's the plan?”

“We’re going to use a ritual to place one person in a trance that will allow them to access Derek’s mind,” the vet explained. “It can be dangerous, for both parties involved, and we’ll likely only get one shot at this.”

“If we only have once chance, shouldn’t we send more than one person?” Scott asked but Deaton was already shaking his head.

“Too many voices will confuse him. If he retreats any deeper we’ll never reach him and most likely you would all end up trapped as well.”

“Ok, so let’s avoid that,” Isaac said, getting a small smile out of Scott. Deaton nodded.

“Only one can talk to him. It has to be someone with a strong connection to Derek in order for this to work.”

Peter stepped closer as Deaton paused and Stiles felt his heart speed up as the wolf leveled him with a scrutinizing look. This couldn’t be going where he thought it was. They would pick Isaac. The young wolf made the most sense as he’d been living with Derek, was part of his pack, and was also one of the first that Derek had given The Bite. Why wasn’t Peter looking at Isaac?

“Now, he would never admit it,” Peter started, his eyes never leaving the fidgeting teen. “But there is one person who could reach him…”

His gaze grew more intense until Stiles had to drop his eyes to get away from that searing look.

“Who could save him,” the wolf finished.

“Stiles,” the vet said firmly, drawing Stiles’ gaze. “Only you can save him.”

“Wait,” Isaac burst out, looking between Deaton and Peter like they’d lost their minds. “Why Stiles? I mean… they’re not exactly close.”

Scott put a hand on the other wolf’s arm but his eyes were firmly on Stiles. Stiles refused to look at his best friend. Scotty knew all about his feelings for the surly Alpha and he didn’t need to see the concern, or worse, the pity in his friend’s eyes. Stiles looked at his feet as he tried to calm the shaking in his hands. He was sure all the wolves could hear his heart beating like a hummingbird, maybe even Deaton could too that sneaky bastard.

“Maybe not on the surface,” Deaton explained. “But they share a much… deeper bond.”

The teen’s head snapped up at that. 

“A bond? What bond?” he blurted, unable to help the hint of hope in his voice.

“One I’m certain my stubborn nephew has convinced himself isn’t there,” Peter continued smugly. Stiles started to suspect he and the vet had been practicing this speech what with their perfectly matched vague-as-shit answers.

“But... what...” Scott started. Deaton was focused solely on Stiles.

“Unfortunately we really don’t have time to explain. Stiles,” he put his hands on the teen’s shoulders. “Only you can do this. You have to find Derek and wake him up; it’s his only chance of coming out of this.”

The brunette swallowed hard before looking once more at the unconscious Alpha. He had no idea what ‘bond’ they were talking about, but if he had any chance of helping Derek…

“Ok,” he breathed, then spoke again with more conviction. “Ok, what do I do?”

\----

Why does a vet’s office even have a giant, trough-looking tub? Stiles wondered as he looked at the uninviting metal tub that he had helped fill almost entirely with ice and water while Deaton had poured some of his mysterious herbs into it. 

He stood there barefoot in a pilfered t-shirt and sweats from Scott’s work locker as they waited for Deaton to finish… whatever he was doing with the last few herbs that would allow Stiles to find his way into Derek’s mind. After another minute, the vet finally finished mumbling over the jar and dumped what looked like mistletoe berries (Stiles had spent a lot of time in the potions room on Pottermore) into the icy water. 

“Ok, we’re all set,” he said, looking calmly at Stiles. “Ready?”

Taking a deep breath, Stiles stepped up to the tub before nodding shakily.

“Dude,” Scott said as he put one hand on the brunette’s shoulder. “You okay?”

“Oh yeah,” Stiles responded, voice dripping with sarcasm. “You know, just going for a swim in the world’s worst cup of iced-tea so that I can Inception a comatose werewolf whose mind is probably going to be about as much fun as the first five minutes of a Supernatural episode. Just your typical Tuesday in Beacon Hills.”

His best friend didn’t answer, looking instead over at Deaton.

“How slow does his heartrate need to be?”

“Very slow,” was the typically unhelpful answer. “Nearly dead.”

A bolt of lightning lit the room briefly and Stiles nearly scoffed at the drama it added. Scott’s grip on his shoulder tightened at Deaton’s words and Stile’s covered his friend’s hand with his own, drawing that brown-eyed gaze.

“I’ll be okay, Scotty,” he said, hoping his heartbeat stayed strong and steady to reassure his friend. Scott gave him a firm nod before loosening his grip and stepping slightly back. He looked over at Isaac who was looking really queasy.  
“You can wait in the other room…”

“No,” the wolf answered, shaking himself a little and squaring his shoulders. “No, that’s okay. I want to be here.”

“We’re wasting time,” Peter almost sounded concerned from where huddled in the corner, almost. Stiles ignored him and gave Isaac a grateful smile. 

“Ok,” he sighed, lifting one leg and slowly climbing into the tub. He hissed in a breath at the frigid temperature of the water but forced himself to sit down, the water coming up to his neck. Scott took up position at his back, both hands on his shoulders as Deaton leaned over the side in order to look him in the eye. 

“Remember Stiles: We won’t be able to keep you down for too long before it becomes dangerous. You need to find him as fast as you can.”

Stiles nodded, his teeth chattering as he tried to take deep breaths and his fingers sore from how hard he was gripping the sides of the tub.

“Ready?” Scott asked, probably freaking out but doing a good job of not showing it. Stiles forced himself to loosen his grip and bring his arms all the way into the water. He took one more deep breath, nodded, and then let his best friend plunge him under water.

 

\----


	2. Into the Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey! So.... yeah a week and *cough* two and a half months later, here's the next chapter!! It's not as long as I would like but I wanted to get something up. I'm still working on the rest and I'm sorry to say it may be a while. I'm not going to jinx myself and promise anymore speedy updates cause that's not something I'm good at. I am working on the next bit, I just can't say it'll be done all that quickly. Thanks for reading though and I hope you enjoy!

Stiles burst out of the water, desperately gasping for breath as he tried to get his bearings.

 

What happened? Did it fail? Wasn't he supposed to be like.... mostly dead right now? He jumped to his feet, water sloshing over the sides of the tub as he looked for Scott or Deaton. It took him longer than he’d like to admit to realize what was wrong with his surroundings.

There was nothing; no vet's office, no table, no werewolves... just... nothing. Every way he looked there was nothing but white.

He climbed fully out of the water, the white taking shape into a linoleum floor as he did. All at once, it was more like he was standing in a white-washed cafeteria; tile floors, lights overhead, and a few pillars to hold everything up. It was still disturbingly void of anything else and Stiles shivered involuntarily.

“Derek!” he tried, listening as his voice echoed eerily all around him. There was no way Derek's mind was this empty. The wolf held everything inside, suppressed and pushed deep down to a point that Stiles had been expecting a war-zone... not this creepy silence.

Deaton's voice broke through the quiet, whispering around him as if from a great distance away.

Hurry.

“Derek!” Stiles called again, listening to it echo through the strange emptiness. Still no response. He spun in a circle, running both hands through his hair as he tried to decide what to do. He didn't have a lot of time. He had to find him... but where the hell did he even start?

Shaking his head he just picked a direction and started running.

The hollow emptiness didn’t change. It was like one of those nightmares where you ran and ran and didn’t get anywhere. Where the hell was Derek? Surely the werewolf’s mind wasn’t this blank?

“Derek!” his bare feet smacked against the floor as he ran. “Come on, I gotta get you out of here! Derek!”

Stiles came to a halt, exhausted and a little panicked. He wasn’t getting anywhere and he still couldn’t see anything other than the fucking white! He was fighting for breath as he tried desperately to figure out what he was supposed to do.

'Easy, relax.' Deaton’s voice echoed again, bringing with it a sense of calm.' Just focus on Derek.'

“Ok… ok,” Stiles spoke softly to himself, trying to calm his mind. He closed his eyes to block out the white and reached for that ‘something’ inside that he had felt before. The thing that he had felt when connecting the circle of mountain ash; all the while keeping one thought in his head: Derek.

He focused on the werewolf’s face that looked good clean-shaven or scruffy. On his bright, slightly buck-toothed grin. On the ridiculous definition of his chest, arms, stomach… really all of him was just plain unfair. He focused on the sound of Derek’s voice, much softer and not as deep as one would expect. On the unexpected and often dry sense of humor that had taken Stiles by surprise. On the truly warm-hearted person that hid behind all of that scowling.

As he felt himself calm, a warm pulse began to fill his chest, beating in time with his heart and he opened his eyes.

There were trees around him now, sprouting right through the linoleum and disappearing out of sight above his head. And standing a little ways in front of him, staring at him with curious eyes, was the most beautiful wolf Stiles had ever seen. (not that he’d seen many wolves but he’d seen lots of pictures)

Its fur was pitch black and it had bright blue eyes that stood out vividly from the dark coat. Stiles was no expert on wolves, but he knew that this one was much larger than was natural. Its head was easily at the height of his chest and he’d bet its paws were bigger than his fist.

“Derek?” Stiles ventured. He didn’t know how accurate a guess it was, seeing as the wolf’s eyes were blue not Alpha-red, but he couldn’t shake how familiar the wolf felt. Like a child hood friend you met years later and could still recognize despite how they may have changed.

The wolf’s ears perked up and it tilted its head slightly, its big tail giving a small wag.

“Ok, not how I expected to find you,” the brunette mused, quickly moving forward. “But this works. Come on, big guy, we gotta go.”

He was just within arms-reach when the big wolf jumped backwards a few feet into a playful crouch, paws splayed as it lowered its head. When Stiles just watched, startled, it gave a low ‘woof’ and wagged its tail again like a playful puppy.

“We don’t have time to play right now, dude,” Stiles said; certainly words he never thought he’d say to the werewolf. “Let’s get you out of here.”

The wolf gave another playful yip before spinning away and bounding off into the trees, claws clicking against the scattered remains of linoleum interspersed with the underbrush.

“Shit! Derek!” Stiles took off running after it, trying to keep the black mass in sight as it loped smoothly ahead of him. “Damn it Derek! We don’t have time for this!”

The wolf ignored him, continuing on through the trees and stopping every now and then to let Stiles catch up before bounding away again. Every time it stopped it would look back over its shoulder, tongue hanging out and jaws open in what Stiles swore was a grin. Bastard was laughing at him!

“Since when are you so fucking cheerful?!” Stiles shouted, cursing as the wolf once again leapt on ahead of him. “I’m trying to save you, you idiot! Get back here!”

The last of the white and linoleum had disappeared, leaving them running through what he could’ve sworn was the preserve. The farther they went, the more intense the warm pulse in his chest became to the point where it almost felt hot. It wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable just… really hard to ignore.

“Ok, this is the preserve,” Stiles amended when he saw the outline of the old Hale house looming through the trees. The wolf had stopped in front of it, watching him expectantly.

The house looked whole and complete, untouched by flames or the elements, but there were no lights on inside and it still had a distinctly abandoned feel to it. He looked at the wolf as it made its way up the porch before looking back at him.

“Is this all you wanted to show me?” he asked. The big animal just whined at him before pawing at the door. Resisting the intense urge to make a lassie reference, Stiles moved up onto the porch, the heat in his chest tugging more pointedly the closer he got to the door.  
For the first time he noticed a faint, golden line of light that was coming from his chest and leading to the door before disappearing into the wood. It looked like a thread of a spider web, thin and delicate and apparently connecting him to something in the house.

“Ok, that’s perfectly normal…” he muttered sarcastically. The big black wolf whined at him again before pushing its head against his back, urging him toward the door. “Look we really don’t have time-“

He was cut off by a deep growl as the wolf bared its impressive teeth at him.

“Ok! In we go!” he said instead, turning back to the door and grabbing the handle. He didn’t know if the big black wolf could hurt him in this mental state, but he wasn’t willing to push his luck. He’d just poke his head in to appease Mr. Grumpy-wolf and then they would high-tail it back to the land of the living.

Carefully he eased open the door, the hinges creaking in protest.

He couldn’t see anything but darkness on the other side. The only light was coming from the small gold thread that was spreading from his chest and leading further into the house.

He turned to look at his furry companion, wondering what exactly he was supposed to be looking for, only to find the black wolf had vanished.

“Oh come on!” he said, looking all around but unable to see a single trace of the wolf. Heaving a sigh, he turned back to the house and opened the door further.

He was starting to doubt that the wolf had actually been Derek, not that he could guess what else it might’ve been, but it had been leading him to the house for a reason. And there was also the gold thread to consider which was leading him inward.

Stiles took a cautious step inside. It wasn’t like he had any other ideas, might as well see where this lead.

It was still dark inside, but there was enough light spilling through the open door that he could see large shapes spreading out across the room. The inside of the house was nothing like the real one, everything sort of morphed into one big open room. Taking a deep breath Stiles started weaving his way between the weird, solid forms in the dark space, following the golden thread that glowed brighter with every step.

It took him walking a few feet before he realized the forms he was moving through were glass statues. Some were tall and some were only about waist height, but he felt cold in his stomach when he saw a few that he recognized. He’d seen these faces before, on the news and in his father’s case files.

Each statue represented a member of the Hale family.

With a new ache in his chest he continued on, making sure he didn’t accidentally knock into any of them. Near the center of the room, the faces began to change. Some he still recognized: Laura Hale, Jackson, Allison’s mom: but there were some he couldn’t place.

The inner most ring of statues were closer together, and he definitely recognized all of them. Scott, Erica, Boyd, Isaac, basically anyone in their little pack made up the inner circle, all facing inwards. Stiles realized with a shock that there was even a statue of him, standing still and cold across from him.

With a shudder he turned his attention back to the golden thread that went into the middle of the statues and then down to connect to something on the floor. Carefully, he moved around the glass Scott and Allison to stand in the small clearing left in the middle.

 

There, curled in on himself, was the huddled and shaking form of Derek Hale.


	3. Out of the Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this took so long. I did warn that I'm a slow updater, but I had hoped to have this done much much sooner! If you stuck with it, thank you!!!! and I hope this was worth the wait! I'm not entirely happy with the ending but I wanted to get this up. There may be another chapter, I do have one in the works, but again..... probably a long wait for it. Sorry! Thanks for Reading!!!!

Oooookay… now Stiles was completely confused. He’d thought the big black wolf had been Derek, but Derek was in front of him, huddled in a ball on the floor. So what the hell had been with the wolf then? Was it part of Derek’s psyche? Did he have a split personality? Well that would explain a few…. Okay! Off track!

Stiles shook his head a little. He didn’t have time to figure out all the weird in and outs of Derek’s head, he just needed to get the big guy out.

“Derek?”

No response.

“Derek!” carefully he placed on hand on the curled up wolf’s shoulder, hoping to shake him out of whatever was happening here. Still no response. He tried to roll him over but the big ball of muscle wouldn’t budge.

“Derek! Hey buddy, this is all nice and creepy but I really need you to get up now ok?”

That got a response as Derek curled tighter into himself and vigorously shook his head ‘no’.

“C’mon man. You can’t tell me you actually want to stay in here? I’m freaked out and this isn’t even my head,” Stiles urged, pulling a little harder on Derek’s shoulder. Which, seriously?! Even in a weird mind-dream-scape-thing the man’s shoulders were ridiculous.

“No,” the voice was small and broken, not at all like the familiar tones that Stiles had secretly come to love. “They’re all safer, you’re safer, without me. If I just stay here I can’t hurt them anymore.”

Stiles felt an ache form in his chest. He knew, of course, that Derek had low self-esteem. Anyone who knew the man for five minutes could tell he had issues. He didn’t know the wolf’s self-worth was so bad, though.

“You can’t really believe that?” he argued. ‘not that we’ve given you much reason not to,’ he added silently, feeling a stab of guilt.

Finally Derek sat up and looked at him, eyes alpha red, mouth twisted into a sneer.

“Why not? It’s true. Too many people have suffered because of me. My family, Laura, Paige, Erica, Boyd, Cora… I’ve got enough proof! You’re all better off if I just stay here!”

Stiles wanted to ask who Paige was, but this was so not the time. Part of him just wanted to wrap Derek in a blanket and give him a hug, but the last thing that would help right now was pity. Even if Stiles would mean it as empathy, he knew that Derek would take it as pity and he would just feel more sorry for himself, stuck forever in his weird guilt-trip. Stiles’ gaze hardened.

“Ok look. First of all, none of the crap you just listed was your fault, not that you’ll believe me. It was shitty people around you who decided on their own to do terrible things. I’m sorry all of that happened to you and I get it, trust me! But unlike these freaky-ass statues, we’re not made of glass and you are not solely responsible for our safety!”

Derek looked a little stricken but he quickly schooled his expression.

“Why would you even want me around?” he asked. “I spend most of my time threatening you and the rest of the time we're arguing.”

“I prefer to think of it as snarky banter. And, believe it or not, your threats really don’t hold much weight anymore. One can only be threatened so much with no actual harm before they just don’t pack the same punch.”

That caused one corner of the alpha’s mouth to twitch upwards ever so slightly and Stiles inwardly crowed.

“Derek, I know you feel like you’ve failed. And I know you feel like you deserve… whatever this is,” Stiles said, looking around them at the still creepy statues.

“But we need you out there, in the real world. There’s crazy Alphas, and something killing virgins which I’m still really freaked out about, and animals going nuts and there is no way we can do this without you. There’s no way I can do this without you.”  
Derek was already shaking his head and Stiles had to repress the urge to scream.

“I’ll just get the rest of you killed,” the alpha said, but Stiles could see he was starting to doubt his own words. 

He couldn't contain his eye-roll at the statement. 

“You know what, sure! Maybe! Maybe, even with your help, some of us might die! And that thought scares the crap out of me, but not as much as the thought of facing all of this without you!”

Derek finally met his eyes, the guilt receding just a little from his face.

“You have saved my life a lot, Derek. Almost as much as I’ve saved yours, and call me crazy but here I was thinking we might actually be friends.”

He took a chance and put both hands on Derek’s shoulders.

“I'm going to level with you, man. The bottom line is: I need you. And it’s not going to be easy and it certainly isn’t going to be fun… but we are far more likely to survive this with your help and quite frankly I can’t just leave you here. You’re my friend and the thought of you not waking up is just unacceptable. Who else is going to do ‘the eyebrows’ at me?”

Derek unfolded from himself a little more, bringing a hesitant hand up to rest on top of Stiles’ own. His stomach did a funny little flip at the contact and the golden glow between them flared bright for a moment. Derek’s eyes snapped down to it, shock written clearly on his face. Along with a healthy dose of fear that raised so many questions in Stiles' head. Just then, he heard Deaton’s voice again, louder than before.

STILES!

“Listen buddy, we have to go. They can’t keep me here any longer,” he said urgently, gripping Derek just a little tighter. The werewolf’s eyes snapped back up and Stiles knew he was about to argue. Part of him wished he had the time to coax him out slowly, let him work through things at his own pace, but he didn't.

“Derek,” he said softly, willing the stubborn man to understand all the things he didn't have time to say. “Trust me… please?”

Trust that I'll get you out of here. Trust that I want you around. Trust that I need you. Trust that we can get through this, together.

Hazel eyes bore into him for a moment before finally Derek nodded and they both got to their feet. Now Stiles was grinning.

“Awesome! Let’s blow this Popsicle stand!” he said, headed for a break in the statues. Derek hesitated, looking uncertain. Stiles paused, watching him before slowly moving back and taking his hand. He was surprised when the wolf didn't pull it back but instead gripped his hand just as hard.

“It’s ok,” he prompted, smiling encouragingly as Derek nodded. Together, they wove their way through the shudder-inducing statues, Derek’s eyes fixed firmly to the floor.

At long last they made it to the door and both breathed a sigh of relief. Once outside, Stiles expected to see the wolf again, but there was nothing but the trees and underbrush.

“Huh, wonder where that wolf went?” he muttered. Derek looked at him sharply.

“What wolf?” he asked, tone a little accusatory. Stiles raised an eyebrow at him.

“The wolf that’s apparently in your head…” he said, heading down the porch. “He practically dragged me here.”

He looked back to realize Derek had frozen on the spot, looking at him with a weird mix of shock and what Stiles thought might be hope. He didn’t have time to figure it out, he was starting to feel a little fuzzy and that couldn’t be good.

“Derek! Seriously! We gotta get you the hell out of here!”

That jolted the werewolf back into motion and together they took off through the trees. Luckily it didn’t take long before the forest faded away and they were in that bizarre too-white cafeteria that still had the big metal tub.

"Ah, shit," Stiles stumbled, his vision going blurry as he nearly fell face first into the ground.

“Stiles!” Derek managed to grab him and steady him, looking him over closely. He must’ve looked terrible if the angle of brunette's eyebrows was any indication.

“I’m fine from here, you need to wake up,” Derek said sternly. Stiles clung to him a little tighter, giving him his most stubborn look. He was getting weak and he knew Derek was right but he had to be sure.

“You’re coming too, right?” he asked. Derek gave him a spectacular scowl and Stiles had to smile. There was the Sourwolf he knew and secretly loved.

“Yes, I’ll be there. Now stop being an idiot and wake up.”

He just couldn’t help himself.

“That’s my line, isn’t it?” he said, smirking as Derek shook his head slightly. The wolf was smiling a little now though and his irritation seemed more fond than anything.

“Stiles. Go!”

The teen finally nodded, exhaustion hitting him hard. He was out of time. He wasn’t entirely sure how this worked but he closed his eyes, focusing on waking up, and the next thing he knew he was bolting up out of the freezing water. He was frantically gasping for air, his lungs burning as he tried to get his bearings.

Scott had him by the shoulder, physically hauling him out of the water, his face pinched with worry as he got Stiles on his feet. Stiles' teeth were chattering and his head was pounding but he gave Scott’s arm a firm pat to let him know he was ok.

“Stiles,” he heard his name, almost like a question from across the room and looked up to see Derek sitting up and very much awake.

“Hey… you okay?” he asked, still getting his breath back.

Derek was just staring back at him with a look he couldn't interpret. Before they could even attempt more of a conversation, Stiles was being hustled away by Scott to dry off and warm up. Isaac followed them, his arms full of towels, but he left them to it as Stiles quickly stripped out of his freezing clothes. 

He leaned heavily against Scott as his friend helped dry him vigorously, hoping the friction would warm him up quicker. Stiles was glad they weren't body shy around each other. They'd been friends for so long and having to strip down in the locker rooms smashed whatever shyness they may have still had.

“What happened?” Scott asked as he helped Stiles shrug into a thick hoodie. Stiles just shook his head. He didn't feel right talking about what he'd seen in Derek's mind. It seemed too... personal. Scott just nodded and rubbed at his arms.

Everything was running through his mind, from the wolf to the weird golden thread. And the look on Derek's face when he noticed it. Stiles had seen recognition and disbelief there, clearly indicating that Derek knew what it was. 

“You okay?” Scott checked, gently pulling him from his thoughts and Stiles smiled reassuringly at his best friend.

“Yeah man. I promise, I'm fine,” he said, teeth no longer chattering. “But I think Derek and I need to have a talk.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by Paquim's fanvid on youtube:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QOZlD3eRvQM  
> Hope this was worth the wait!  
> Thanks!


End file.
